


Matching, Hatching and Dispatching (Well, Two Out of Three Isn’t Bad)

by shotboxer



Category: Coupling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-19
Updated: 2010-12-19
Packaged: 2017-10-13 19:32:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/140944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shotboxer/pseuds/shotboxer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jeff has been named as the godfather, what could possibly go wrong?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Matching, Hatching and Dispatching (Well, Two Out of Three Isn’t Bad)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ariana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ariana/gifts).



> A/N: This fic references series’ creator Stephen Moffat’s own description of how he saw the series ‘ending’ (after the loose ends left open in the series finale). The text of his comments can be found here: http://pavementandstars.blogspot.com/2006/05/coupling-how-it-all-ends_18.html.
> 
> Thanks to James for a wonderful beta.

_Scene: The apartment of Patrick Maitland and Sally Harper, 03:00 GMT. Patrick and Sally are asleep in bed. The phone is ringing._

Patrick _picks up the phone receiver and brings it to his ear without moving_ : It’s 3am! Sod off!

Patrick _slams the phone down. A beat. The phone starts ringing again._

Sally _without moving_ : Patrick, answer the damn phone already. It might be an emergency.

Patrick _turns his head to face Sally but otherwise does not move_ : It’s 3am. There are only two types of emergencies that happen at 3am. Death and birth. And, since Susan’s already *had* the baby, and I refuse to wake up to be told someone is dead, when the fact of my knowing they’re dead now as opposed to say, 10 tomorrow morning, is not going to make them any less dead.

 _The phone continues to ring throughout their dialog. It gets slightly louder with each ring._

Sally: Patrick, if you don’t answer that phone there *will* be an emergency, one which will involve your death, about which I expect you’d care quite a bit . . .

Patrick _waits a beat, then flips over and snatches up the phone mid-ring._

Patrick: Hello! What the bloody hell do you want?!

Jeff: Patrick?

Patrick: Jeff?

 _There is an awkward silence where we can hear Jeff breathing down the phone line, but he doesn’t say anything._

Patrick: Jeff, it’s 3am. I assume you’re not dead. And unless you’ve been doing something really weird, even for you, you can’t be giving birth. So, if it’s all the same to you, I’m going to say goodnight now and . . .

Jeff _blurting over Patrick’s last few words_ : I can’t remember. Patrick, I can’t remember!

Patrick _resigned to his fate_ : You can’t remember what? Wait, no, I don’t care; it’s 3am . . .

Jeff _apparently can’t stop interrupting_ : His name, Patrick! I can’t remember his name! Susan and Steve have to have told me hundreds of times now. Every time they called, it’d be  
 _Imitates in a overly cheerful yet somehow slightly menacing sing-song voice_  
‘Jeff, you’re sure you can make it to blahdeblah’s christening? Because we *did* make you his godfather despite our best judgment and maybe because Steve was really drunk at the time and Susan has this weird crush on the vicar and she didn’t want to embarrass herself by explaining they’d made a mistake, so Jeff you *have* to be at the christening.’  
 _Switches back to his normal voice without taking a breath_  
Except instead of ‘blahdeblah’ they’d say his name and I’d be saying  
 _Deepens his voice in an overly exaggerated ‘serious’ tone_  
‘Oh, yes, absolutely, Steve, Susan, you can count on me. I won’t let you down’  
 _Again without taking a breath_  
while inside I’d be totally panicking because, what if I say the wrong thing? I *always* say the wrong thing! And this isn’t just any girl in a pub or on a train! No, Patrick, this is going to be a church full of people, full of *upstanding members of the community*! Susan’s *parents*, Patrick! In a *church*! I cock this up and I could go to hell, or worse, they could deploy the Little Old Lady Network against me! And now, because of all this panic every time I talk to someone about the christening, I can’t remember his name, Patrick! This is terrible! What kind of godfather doesn’t even know his godson’s name?!

Patrick _is sitting up in bed by now, settled in against the headboard_ : I’m guessing the kind who tries to pick up women by recommending they be embalmed.

Jeff _beseeching_ : You’ve got to help me, Patrick!

Patrick: Not at 3am I don’t. Sally and I are picking you up from the airport, right?

Jeff _sensing a brush off_ :Right, but . . .

Patrick _taking his turn to interrupt_ :Then we can sort it all out then. Goodnight Jeff.

Patrick _firmly returns the phone to its cradle._

Jeff _forlornly, over the dial tone_ : Patrick, wait . . .

Sally _still hasn’t moved from her place in bed_ :Who was it?

Patrick _dismissively_ :Just Jeff having one of his panic attacks.

Sally _rising up on her elbows in exasperation_ :What, again? I thought we’d have heard the last of them for a while after he moved to that island and started pretending not to speak English.

Patrick _shrugs as he slides down and pulls the covers up over his shoulders_ :Yeah, well, church functions can do weird things to a man. You should have seen me before our wedding . . .

Sally _interrupting, wide awake now and with an axe to grind_ :Patrick? Darling? I’m thinking that this is one of those things that, for both our peace of minds, I don’t need to know.

Patrick _recognizing that tone of voice and taking the coward’s way out_ :Oh, yes, you’re right, dear. Going to sleep now. Night, Sally.

Sally _satisfied with her obedient husband_ :Good night, Patrick.

 _The scene changes to:_

 _13:00 the next afternoon. The mobile phone lot at the airport. Sally and Patrick’s (very unremarkable) car. Jeff appears seemingly out of nowhere and gets into the back seat._

Jeff _self congratulatory_ : Ah, ha, there you are! I thought I recognized your car! I said to myself, Jeff, there’s only one couple I know who would have a car like that, and I was right!

Patrick and Sally _together_ : Aaah!

Sally _turning around to stare at Jeff_ : Jeff! Where did you come from?!

Jeff _off-handedly_ :Oh, well, my flight got in early so I thought I’d just come out and look for you instead of hanging around in the arrivals area. Less opportunity for people to try and make me speak to them in English, you know.

Sally _confused and then sharply mocking_ : Um, okay . . . what’s so wrong with speaking English again? You’re doing it now, in fact, I could have sworn you must have done it every day of your life until just a year ago . . .

Jeff _interrupting in a patronizing tone_ :Yes, Sally. I did. And you know as well as anyone just how much trouble English communication has caused me. There’s always some misunderstanding and it’s always me who gets the brunt of it. You’d think the other person would get the short end of the conversational stick every once in a while, so to speak, but, nooo, it’s always Jeff! Crazy Jeff who can’t string two sentences together without putting his foot in it! So I’ve decided to just avoid the whole thing and only speak Hebrew from now on.

Patrick _thoroughly confused_ : But you don’t know Hebrew.

Jeff _as if imparting a terrific secret_ : *Exactly*

 _The scene cuts away to:_

 _14:00 the same day. The car with Sally, Patrick and Jeff in it pulls up outside a London church._

Sally _has obviously been talking for a while now_ : And then I said to Jane, ‘don’t you think I looked better than Susan in my dress?’ And Jane said,  
 _does a good imitation of Jane’s overly enthusiastic voice_  
‘Oh, absolutely. I don’t know what Susan’s done with herself but you looked *so* much thinner than she does in your dress’.  
 _With the conviction of someone determined to maintain their self-delusion at all costs_  
It must have been all that post-pregnancy flab. I mean, Susan’s never been one to take such good care of herself and I told her, I warned her about getting to the gym as soon as possible, because once the flab gets a hold it’s like a leech, it just sticks and sticks and it won’t go away no matter what you do  
 _detouring from focusing too much on the distressing subject of flab_  
. . . I even booked her an appointment with the personal trainer at my gym for the day she got out of the hospital, but did she take it? No, of course not. Didn’t want to leave Steve alone with the baby. I said,  
 _In an impatient tone, as if talking to someone who is being intentionally dense_  
‘Well, it *is* his son, he has to look after him sometime. Steve’ll probably only drop him on his head once before he learns to hold him properly and in the meantime you can be sweating away all that nasty pregnancy flab’.  
 _She ends on a cheerful high note but quickly descends into hurt annoyance_  
But did she listen to me? Her best friend who only has her best interests at heart? No, instead she listens to Steve’s whingeing about their having ‘quality family time’ and totally blows off the appointment I went through all that trouble to set up for her . . .

Jeff _interrupting Sally with his horrifying realization_ : Oh my god! We’re here!

Patrick _getting tired of Jeff’s drama_ : Yes, Jeff. This is the church where the christening is being held. You know, the reason you got all dressed up and took a plane all the way back to England?

Jeff _well on his way to an epic freak-out_ : But, but, I can’t go in there! I still haven’t remembered what his name is! And there will be old ladies and Susan’s parents and they’re all going to be looking at me!

Patrick _resigned to stating the obvious until Jeff comes to his senses_ : Yes, because you’re going to be up in front of the church promising to be a good godfather. It’s what they do at a christening, you know.

Jeff _his panic only feeding off Patrick’s comment_ : But what if I say something wrong? What if the giggle loop starts? Or, or, what if I accidentally ogle Susan’s breasts? She’s breast feeding now you know. Her breasts will be *huge*! They’ll be like gigantic, milk-filled eye magnets! I won’t be able to even look at her without having my eyes sucked downwards to her enormous chest! It’ll be like the visual equivalent of the giggle loop – an ogle loop! Patrick, Sally I can’t do this!

 _Jeff’s important realization is interrupted by Steve, who, dressed in his Sunday best, has come out of the church to collect the final three guests. Steve knocks on the passenger side window next to Jeff, startling all three of the car’s occupants._

Steve _impatiently to cover his own nerves_ : Come on, you lot, the vicar’s about to start. Oh, good, Jeff you remembered your tie. Thanks for coming all this way. Susan and I really appreciate it.

Jeff _well and truly trapped now but still trying to be a good friend_ : Oh, um, no problem Steve. Anything for a porn buddy. Uh, I mean, my best friend. No mentioning porn in a church, right? _Gives a strangled laugh that turns into a moan. To himself_ : oh god, I’m doomed.

Steve _ushering the three of them into the church_ : Patrick, Sally we’ve saved you seats in the front row. Jeff, come on, you stand to the left of the vicar.

Jeff _twisting frantically to make eye contact with Patrick as Steve leads him up the centre aisle by the arm_ : Wait, wait, Patrick, you never told me . . . what’s his *name*?!

 _The scene cuts to:_

 _14:15. The front of the church. Jeff, Susan, Steve and the vicar are arranged around the baptismal font, facing the congregation. Susan and Steve stand on one side of the vicar, holding their son. Jeff stands on the other side, staring at the baptismal font like his life depends on it._

Vicar _in the soothing tones of someone who’s done this a million times before_ : And now, in the company of family, friends and the greater Christian community, we welcome a new member into the embrace of Christ’s love. Susan, if I may?

 _He takes the baby from Susan, settles him in his arm, over which a towel is already draped, as a precaution against baby drool, and holds him over the baptismal font, using his other hand to scoop water from the font and pour it on the baby’s head_

Thank you. I baptize you in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the . . .

 _The baby’s wriggling has managed to work the towel free from the vicar’s arm and as it drops onto the floor, his normal rhythm stutters to a halt_

whoops, there goes the towel.

Susan and Jeff _at the same time_ : I’ll get it.

 _They both bend down to the floor in front of the font, reaching for the towel as they speak over each other . . ._

Jeff : No, Susan, let me . . .

Susan : Here, Jeff, I’ve got it.

 _The inevitable happens, as their hands collide on the towel, Jeff looks up and directly into Susan’s ample chest, which just happens to be leaking milk through the front of her white blouse._

Jeff _mesmerized and in awe_ : Breasts . . .

Susan _confused and offended but also not entirely surprised_ : What?

Jeff _still unable to look away from Susan’s chest, but with enough sense to try and save himself, casts desperately in his mind for a plausible explanation. And remembers the one word of Hebrew he actually knows_ : Oh, I mean, uh . . . shadayim! Shadayim, it’s Hebrew for, um . . .

Susan _not fooled for a minute but very aware of the audience of family members and elderly church goers projects to that she can be heard in the organ loft_ : Blessings. It’s Hebrew for blessings.

 _Very pointedly to Jeff_

Specifically the kind a godfather would give to his godson on an occasion such as this.

Jeff _as they both stand up, he hands her the towel and retreats to his side of the font, pathetically hopeful that this may not be a total train wreck_ : Um, yes, exactly.

Susan _still projecting to the organ loft and wanting to make her point very clear_ : Jeff’s been abroad, you know. He speaks Hebrew now.

Jeff _a deer caught in the hunter’s head lights_ : Uh, yes, I do . . .

Steve _interrupting before either of them really does cause a train wreck, he grabs the towel from Susan and hands it hastily to the vicar_ : Right! Here’s the towel. You were saying vicar?

Vicar _gives up on the towel and just slings it over his shoulder then hastily wraps things up_ : Yes, thank you, Steve. I baptize you in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. And now, if the godfather would like to take his new godson, we can all pose for pictures.

 _The vicar passes the baby to Jeff and beats a hasty retreat – he’s got a hot date with a very good sherry and the latest Victoria’s Secret catalog in his study. Amazingly, Jeff manages to take the baby and then him settled in his arms without dropping him, something that makes Steve look just a little bit jealous._

Jeff _slightly terrified to be faced with the awesome responsibility of his godson, face to face_ : Oh, right, yes, baby! Hi there, baby! My aren’t you small and pink and . . .

Patrick _interrupting with his camera_ : Say cheese everyone!

Steve _eyes watering from the sudden light_ : Aaah! Patrick, turn the flash off!

Patrick _not really all that_ : Sorry.

Patrick _now taking his duties as photographer quite seriously_ : Okay, Jeff, get closer to Susan and Steve, everyone lean in now . . . smile . . .

 _Susan, Steve and Jeff shuffle into position as ordered and fix big smiles on their faces._

Susan _around her big, fixed smile_ : Jeff?

Jeff _also around his smile, and doing his best to avoid all eye contact with Susan_ : Uh, yes Susan?

Susan _all the more menacing for grinning like a maniac_ : If you ever tell anyone what ‘shadayim’ really means, I will hunt down every one of your ex-girlfriends and I will give them your new address . . .  
 _Pauses for effect and to think of an appropriate threat. Inspiration is happily, right in front of her, still using the flash with gusto_  
and I’ll tell them you’ve been taking photography lessons from Patrick.

Jeff _truly terrified and trying for non chalance_ : Oh, um, I wasn’t planning on saying anything. Ever. Never, never, ever, I don’t even speak Hebrew, so there’s no problem is there.

 _Casting about wildly for something nice to change the subject_

Susan?

Susan _sensing a rat_ : Yes, Jeff?

Jeff _realizing this is a bad idea but unable to stop himself_ : They do smell very nice. Your . . . I mean, because of the milk and they’re warm and it smells . . . holding a baby. You can’t hit me while I’m holding a baby. Your baby!

Jeff _dandles his godson frantically, smiling like a maniac._

Steve _having overheard the exchange between his (soon to be ex) best friend and his wife_ : You have to hand him back some time, Jeff.

Jeff _knows he’s well and truly screwed but can’t stop trying to dig himself out of it_ : Oh, Steve. . . but I can’t hand him back.

Steve _incredulous and mocking_ : Really? And why, pray tell, can’t you hand me my own son back, Jeff?

Jeff _in his frantic state he blurts out the truth_ : Because . . . I haven’t remembered his name yet! I’m not handing my godson back to you until I remember his name!

 _Just as a dead silence descends on the church. We see the frozen faces of the milling congregation, in the middle of which, unnoticed until now, is Jane._

Jane _happy to have something to call attention to herself for and proud that she’s come up with a way to distract people from Jeff’s plight_ : Oh, look everyone! The little old ladies want to come see the baby, too! Everyone move over, let them through. It’s so nice to see the older generations taking an interest in the young of the community, don’t you think?

 _Jane shoos people out of the way as a group of beady-eyed elderly women in very impressive hats and using big, knobbly canes to walk slowly make their way up the center aisle toward Jeff._

Jeff _caught in the sights of the Little Old Lady Network with no where to hide_ : No, Jane . . . I don’t think that’s what they’re . . . here Steve, he’s your son, you take him! I’ve got to, uh, go practice my Hebrew . . . somewhere far, far away . . .

 _Jeff shoves the baby at Steve and turns to run as the scene fades to black. The credits roll as we hear running footsteps, accompanied by the shuffle and clump of determined pursuit by the elderly of their prey._


End file.
